Black Tie Billionaire Novels & Stories

"But what meetings does he attend here? Thought the wine press at my town was destroyed. Does he have a company here?" Sara nodded. "He does." Bethany wondered how rich he was cause he isn't being recognized by the media and no one talks about him. Infact, he is just like an ordinary man who had nothing whereas he owns big industries. "He is a silent billionaire I see." Sara lifted the corners of her lips into a smile, "Yes you are right. A billionaire who hates to be recognized so he makes sure to keep hidden what he does secret, leaving the world to wonder who does it."

"You look amazing in that dress." "It's so casual." "This isn't some fancy book launch dinner, it's dinner with friends." Standing, Addie grabbed her arm. "Come on, we're already late." The truth was Blake did look great, she was dressed in a blue dress, tied with a white sash around her middle, and white sandals. "We want the staff to think we're fooling around, not Donna." Blake stared at her in shock. "She won't think that!" "She might if we take much longer. And what would she think of me then, taking advantage of you on the first day?" Addie laughed when Blake paled. "I'm kidding, but we are late."

"Truly he is. But I have also heard that he's quite a player. He changes woman so quickly like changing his clothes. Well, I can't blame him though. He is truly a greek god. Plus, he is super wealthy." "You're right. I have heard that, too. But, who cares? I would be more than willing to have a one night stand with him." Despite his good reputation as a CEO and one of the most successful self-made billionaire in the country, Matthias is also well-known for his addiction with women. For no specific reason, he gets tired of every single woman he gets to sleep with. He never had a serious relationship either. "When is the next auction?" Matthias asked Paul, his secretary, who instantly figured

It was a live video transmission routing directly from a private, ultra-exclusive penthouse suite in the heart of the city. A sleek, impeccably tailored billionaire—a rival tycoon who had been quietly backing her father's offshore debts from the shadows—appeared on the screen. He held a glass of dark scotch, his expression entirely cold as he looked directly at Vivian's soot-stained form through the camera link.

Me in that silver dress, standing far too close to Alexander Lancaster. His hand was at my waist. I remembered the moment his touch, the confusion in his eyes. And now it was plastered across the internet. The headline was bold and cruel: **'Nichole Adams Caught in Scandal with Billionaire Alexander Lancaster — Betrayal Runs in the Family?’** My stomach dropped. “Oh God…” Claire exhaled slowly. “It’s already everywhere. T*****r, gossip sites, even some business pages.” I took her phone, scrolling through the comments.

Everything about this place screamed wealth and power, a sharp contrast to the simplicity of her life at home. Her hands trembled as she clutched her purse tightly. She’d agreed to this meeting out of duty, but she couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest. Who was Adrian Blackwood, really? And why would a man like him—a billionaire—want a stranger like her as his wife? “This way, Miss Bennett,” the butler said, his voice polite but distant.

"Unfortunately I do, I've had the displeasure for the past few weeks of wading through your filth. I have the children you sold away into captivity by the way. By the end of tomorrow the whole world is going to know what you are not to worry." He struggled against his restraints and swore a blue streak. Demented fuck. I stood back and let him tire his old ass out. Funny, up close he didn't look like either of his personas. Not the great senator, nor the axis of evil. Instead he looked like a sixty five year old degenerate down on his luck.

The plate in front of her looked like a photo from a magazine of perfect eggs, toast, and fruit carved into delicate shapes. She couldn’t eat. Her stomach twisted. "You’ll need to adjust quickly," he said, flipping the tablet closed. Then he looked at her. His gaze didn’t flinch. Cold. "Media attention has already started." Her heart skipped. "What? Already?" He slid his phone across the table. A photo. She was stepping into the building the night before, head down, hair messy. Isla Quinn: Billionaire’s Mystery Fiancée? "I thought this would be private."

"The billionaire? What's he doing here?" "Charity event in the west wing. Though after that scandal with his ex-fiancée, I'm surprised he shows his face anywhere." "I heard he's looking for a new girlfriend. Someone to clean up his image." "A fake girlfriend, you mean. Like those Hollywood contracts." My feet stopped moving. Brett Graham. Everyone knew that name. The tech mogul who'd built an empire from nothing, worth billions, cold as ice and twice as ruthless. "How much do you think someone would pay for that kind of arrangement?" the first nurse asked.

His gaze was cold, yet his charismatic aura silenced the crowd. Kimmy’s eyes widened. That man was not the fifty-five-year-old she had been told about. Kimmy’s heart pounded harder. She truly couldn’t understand. When she finally reached the altar, the man’s name rang clearly as the pastor introduced him. “Mr. Grayson Vanderbilt Blackwood.” Kimmy froze, her eyes growing wide. Grayson Vanderbilt Blackwood. The name was not unfamiliar. The richest young man in the capital, a billionaire known for his coldness, cruelty, and constant presence in business magazines and on television. Rumors even said he often changed partners.